


morning glow

by flirtingwithtrackers



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtingwithtrackers/pseuds/flirtingwithtrackers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bellamy doesn't let his girlfriend sleep</p>
<p>"Those times had been great—hot, rushed, even a little rough. But this isn’t like those other times. This is going to be slow, lazy, <i>tender</i>, and Clarke feels her heart race at the thought."</p>
<p>or, the one with morning sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	morning glow

**Author's Note:**

> smut with a side of fluffly domestic bellarke <33
> 
> as usual, shoutout to my wonderful beta [lackingstealth](http://lackingstealth.tumblr.com) on tumblr
> 
> hope you like it :)))

Clarke wakes up to soft lips pressing into the small of her back. They slowly travel up her spine, the swipe of a tongue darting into the space in between her vertebrae and a light kiss to the small bumps that line up the middle of her back. She can feel Bellamy’s hands pressing into the mattress on either side of her and she feels a warmth rush into her chest, a contentedness spreading slowly throughout her limbs as she smiles into her pillow. She keeps her eyes closed, waiting to see where this is going, what Bellamy has in store for her this morning.

Bellamy’s usually not there when she wakes in the morning. He likes to wake up before her and work on his thesis for a few hours while he waits for her to finally roll out of bed (she likes to sleep in, _okay_?) and then makes them both breakfast before she goes to studio for the day.

Bellamy slowly drags his fingertips down her sides, the barely there sensation causing goosebumps to follow in its wake. Clarke attempts to get out of his reach, groaning lazily as she tries to shift away, but to no avail. Bellamy makes patterns into her sides, drawing small swirls over her ribcage, and a pleasant tingle spreads out from the movements. Bellamy chuckles lightly when Clarke lets out a drowsy moan. She doesn’t know what drew him back to their bed, but she is certainly _not_ complaining.

When Bellamy gets up to her neck, pressing a chaste kiss to her nape, Clarke’s eyes are still closed. He knows she’s awake by the sharp intake of breath he hears when he grazes his front teeth over the arc of her shoulder. He pushes her messy bedhead away from her face, sweeping it over her other shoulder. Bellamy leans back into her to nuzzle at her neck and Clarke lets out a faint _good morning_ as he laves at the skin underneath her ear.

Bellamy simply couldn’t resist falling back into bed this morning. The light coming in through the window illuminated their bedroom in a soft glow that had Clarke’s blonde tresses shining, some strands glittering in the muted sunshine that made its way past the curtains. Her fair skin looked absolutely radiant, glowing and bright, and Bellamy couldn’t stop the demanding urge to run his fingers over it that took over. The sheets were spread out across her back, almost like wings, the intricate pink floral pattern—a decorative choice made by Clarke, something about matching the accent in the bathroom—complimenting the rosy undertone of her flushed skin. She looked almost angelic in the delicate light of the room, but then he remembered the devilish smirk on her face the night before when she pressed him back against the mattress before straddling his hips. He could still hear the mischievous laugh that rang throughout the room as she settled her heat over the bulge in his jeans and he couldn’t suppress the moan that passed his lips. The confidence in her eyes and hands when she grabbed at his cock, slowly steadying herself over him, was clear in his mind. He could have thrust up into her but the dangerous glint in her eye said otherwise.

Bellamy stood there in the morning light, still damp from his shower, and chuckled—laughing at his lack of self-control as he made his way over to their bed and his sleeping girlfriend. His heart swelled as he took in the light flush on the one cheek he could see, the other pressed firmly into the mattress. Clarke’s heavy breathing filled the room, the low snore that he falls asleep to every night as he wraps around Clarke, a content smile on his face. His knees dipped into the mattress, pulling Clarke’s lower body minutely closer to him as he climbed onto the bed on the opposite side of her. Bellamy placed his hands on either side of her sleeping form, bracing himself above her.

Bellamy began kissing the tops of her shoulders, slowly pushing the thin sheets lower down her back to reveal more smooth skin. He kissed all the way down to the small of her back, before he dipped his tongue into the shallow dimples on either side of her spine. Clarke murmured as Bellamy dragged his tongue from one dimple to the other, leaving a glistening trail over the curve of her spine. She started to stir, slowly waking up, as he placed kisses up her back, over and in between the small bumps of her vertebrae.

Bellamy presses more of his weight against Clarke’s back now. Clarke can feel his smile against her shoulder when she lets out a contented sigh. She loves the feel of him against her, the smell of his soap filling her sense, the warmth of his body seeping into her skin, the way his bare chest sticks to hers, the dampness of his hair cooling her heated skin. She has always loved his weight over her after they’re spent, both covered in sweat, and Bellamy just lets himself go, crushing her into the mattress until he finally comes back to himself and rolls off of her. The pressure of him on top of her has always made her feel safe, loved—until it becomes hard to breath and she usually has to grumble into his neck to _get off_ , laughing when he scrambles to move.

He lifts up too soon, prompting a sound of protest underneath him. Bellamy lazily drags his lips down her arms, his breath stirring the small golden hairs on them. He moves down her body again, drawing a crooked line down her back with the tip of his finger. When he gets to the sheets draped over the plump curves of her hips, Bellamy hooks a finger into the material and slowly pulls it away. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the small of her back, his eyelashes tickling her lower back. Clarke squirms when Bellamy’s hands grope at her backside, his fingers squeezing lightly until she laughs. He loves the sound, squeezing once more and even slapping one cheek lightly before moving lower.

Clarke breathes in sharply when she feels Bellamy’s fingers dragging lazily over the skin of her inner thighs. She has to actively stop herself from nudging her legs apart, unwilling to give him the satisfaction when she imagines the amused chuckle he’d make or the smirk— _that damn smirk_ —that would slowly spread across his face. Bellamy pushes lightly at her thighs, slowly separating them as he continues to draw designs. Just when his fingers reach up high enough, pressing into her heat and making Clarke moan into her pillow, Bellamy pulls away.

Clarke feels him move up her body again, his torso hovering over her back. She can feel his fingertips dance over her shoulder blades. His hands slid back down her side, both hands clamping onto her hips as Bellamy kneels in between her thighs. He presses a soft kiss to her shoulder. His grip on her hips tightens and he pulls her off the bed a little before whispering in her ear, “Is this okay?”

Clarke lets out a muffled hum of affirmation into her pillow. Heats pools low in her stomach when Bellamy wraps his arms around her waist to pull her up off the mattress. Clarke can feel the material of Bellamy’s boxer against the back of her thighs as well as the coarse hair on his legs that brushes against the tender skin above her knees. She takes in a sharp breath, anticipation spreading through her, as she remembers how the rough material of his jeans had rubbed against her.

This isn’t the first time Bellamy’s taken her from behind, but excitement tingles under her skin because it’s never been like _this_ before. The first few times had been rushed, over the kitchen table one day when Clarke got home from the gym and performed an impromptu strip tease in the foyer and then against the cold tile of the shower wall when Bellamy jumped in behind her one morning before work. Those times had been great—hot, rushed, even a little rough. Clarke’s face heats as she thinks about the bruises Bellamy’s large hands had made on her hips and the red marks she had on the top of her thighs from the tabletop pressing into the sensitive skin, how her nipples pebbled against the cold tile of the shower wall. She can feel the warmth in her face radiate, her face still pressed into her pillow. This isn’t like those other times. This is going to be slow, lazy, _tender_ , and Clarke feels her heart race at the thought.

Clarke loves the way Bellamy’s hands grip at her hips, gentle and warm on her skin. She feels him reach across her back, grabbing his pillow from beside her head. He places it under her lower abdomen before releasing his hold, letting Clarke’s hips fall back into the mattress. She lets out a contented sigh, wiggling further into the sheets.

Bellamy pulls away and Clarke hears some rustling of the sheets and a soft curse before he is leaning back over her, his hands lingering down the back of her thighs. Bellamy grips her thighs in his big hands, his thumbs pressing into soft skin of her inner thighs, and spreads her legs even further apart. The slight elevation from the pillow underneath her is meant to keep her comfortable, but Bellamy asks anyway, “You okay?”  
  
Clarke manages an _mhmm_ loud enough that Bellamy can hear before he positions himself behind her. His hands rest on her hips, his fingers wrapping around her sides and pressing into her ribcage. Clarke shoves her arms underneath her pillow when she feels Bellamy’s cock brush against her inner thigh, digging her fingers into the sheets. When he doesn’t move, Clarke lifts her head up a little to mumble a slow _please_. 

Bellamy removes a hand from her side to guide himself, slowly pressing into her heat. The low moan Clarke makes resonates through the room as he tries to keep his thrust nice and slow. He hisses as he finally fills her, the position making her tighter around him. Clarke lets out a heavy sigh into the pillow and Bellamy takes that as a sign to move. He pulls out just as slowly before lazily thrusting into her again. He sets a slow and steady pace, one that has Clarke trying to press back against him. She moans when he presses her thighs a little further apart, sinking deeper inside her on the next pump.

Bellamy presses feather light kisses on her shoulder blades as he continues his sleepy pace. As the pressure low in Clarke’s abdomen starts to grow, her moans muffled and her fingers clenching and unclenching around her pillow, Bellamy starts sucking at the nape of her neck. It’s not going to leave a mark—although he is quite fond of leaving Clarke marked up, small blooms covering her chest and neck—but Bellamy loves the way Clarke arches her neck to give him more access, loves the taste of her skin, loves how her breathing hitches when he bites down into the tender flesh before laving over it with the broad of his tongue.

Clarke is moaning steadily into her pillow, the gorgeous sound dulled into the fabric. Bellamy slows their pace, earning him a drawn out whine, as he reaches between Clarke and the mattress. He finds her clit eventually after fumbling through the sheets to get to her heat. Bellamy presses down with the pad of his finger and Clarke presses herself further into her pillow, her mouth open in a silent cry. Bellamy massages her clit in steady circles. His pace is slow enough that Clarke is turning her head to moan out, “Please, Bell, more.” Her voice is a low gravel, thick and deep with sleep, and Bellamy groans at the sound.

Unable to deny her, he quickens his pace, both his fingers and thrusts a little quicker now, building up intensity. He’s pressing lingering, open-mouthed kisses against her spine when she clenches around him, causing him to moan into her skin. He keeps rubbing at her clit as she keens into her pillow. A few seconds later, Bellamy quickly speeds up, thrusting into her harder until he comes with a rough groan against her back. He slumps against her, pressing sloppy kisses onto her shoulder for a few moments, reveling in the feel of her harsh breathes underneath him, the quickened expansion and compression of her torso.

When he rolls off of her, flopping onto the bed beside her, he can hear her let out a soft laugh. He looks over to see her smiling at him through her hair, the golden tangles in her face. Bellamy leans over to brush the few unruly curls away before pressing a light kiss to her nose.

“Good morning,” Bellamy whispers, a smile spread across his face.

Clarke giggles at that and an amused _mhmm_ hits Bellamy’s ears. She’s still spread out on her stomach and Bellamy moves closer into her, burrowing under the arm lying next to her head. He proceeds to press light kisses all over the side of her face until she’s rolling over to get away from him. Bellamy quickly follows her, crowding her into the mattress once she’s on her back, smearing sloppy kisses onto her cheeks.

“Bell, stop it,” she laughs underneath his wet lips, pushing ineffectively at his chest.

Bellamy stops for a few moments, taking in the radiant smile on her face before capturing it with his lips, kissing her for the first time that morning. He slowly licks into her mouth, swallowing her contented moan. Clarke can taste the mint of his toothpaste on her tongue. His hand wraps around her ribcage, his thumb brushing against the underside of her breast. Clarke presses up into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders before digging her fingers into thick, wet curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her. Their kiss is lazy, languid, all lips and tongues brushing against one another.

Clarke’s hands start to wander, touching all the skin she hadn’t been able to touch earlier with Bellamy pressed up against her back. She draws a finger down his chest, blindly tracing the hard lines of his abs as she swirls her tongue against his. Bellamy groans into her mouth when she lowers her hand, fingers going through the coarse curls above his now already half-hard cock. Clarke wraps a hand around the base of his cock, laughing when he groans and presses his forehead to her shoulder. She pumps him lightly as he hardens in her hand.

He’s pressing a kiss to her shoulder when she whispers into his ear, “I think you need another shower.”

Bellamy raises his eyes to look at her, a smirk on his face, “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm, and I think I need one, too.”

Clarke pushes Bellamy off of her, getting out of bed. She walks over to their bathroom, shaking her ass and looking at him over her shoulder once she gets to the doorframe. Bellamy waits a few moments before scrambling off the bed to follow her. Clarkes shoots him a final smirk before disappearing into their bathroom and Bellamy can’t help but think that this girl may just be the death of him (but he sure is going to enjoy every damn minute of it).

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you guys thought!!!
> 
> cry with me on [tumblr](http://clarkeslight.tumblr.com) :))


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